by Julia Quinn
But James was too quick. He blocked her path, whispering. “You loved me?”
“I loved him,” she cried out. “I don’t know who you are.”
“I am the same man.”
“No, you’re not. The man I knew was a lie. He wouldn’t have taunted a woman the way you did me. And yet—” Her voice broke, and a horrified laugh escaped her lips. “And yet, he did. Didn’t he?”
“For God’s sake, Elizabeth, what the hell did I do that was so evil and base?”
She stared at him in disbelief. “You don’t even know, do you? You disgust me.”
The muscles in his throat twitched with rage, and it took every ounce of his restraint not to grab her shoulders and shake her until she saw sense. His anger and pain were so raw, so close to the surface that he feared one tiny show of emotion would unleash the whole, horrifying flood of fury. Finally, exerting a self-control he could barely believe he possessed, he managed to bite off two clipped words: “Explain yourself.”
She stood utterly still for a moment, and then, with a stamp of her foot, she stalked across the room and yanked out the copy of HOW TO MARRY A MARQUIS that had been resting on the shelf. “Do you remember this?” she yelled, shaking the little red book in the air. “Do you?”
“I believe you asked me not to mention that book in front of the Ravenscrofts.”
“It doesn’t matter. You’ve humiliated me so thoroughly in front of them, anyway. I might as well finish off the job.”
Caroline laid a comforting hand on Elizabeth’s arm. “I think you’re quite brave,” she said softly. “Please don’t think you’ve been shamed in any way.”
“Oh, you don’t think so?” Elizabeth lashed out, choking on every word. “Well, then, look at this!” She thrust the book into Caroline’s hands.
The book was face-down, so Caroline murmured her incomprehension until she turned it over and read the title. A small cry of alarm escaped her lips.
“What is it, dear?” Blake asked.
Silently, she handed him the book. He regarded it, flipping it over in his hands a few times. Then they both looked up at James.
“I’m not certain what happened,” Caroline said carefully, “but my imagination is devising all sorts of disasters.”
“He found me with that,” Elizabeth said. “I know it’s a ridiculous book, but I had to marry and I didn’t have anyone to whom to turn for advice. And then he found me with it, and I was afraid he’d mock me. But he didn’t.” She paused for breath, then hastily wiped away a tear.
“He was so kind. And then he—and then he offered to tutor me. He agreed that I could never hope to marry a marquis—”
“I never said that!” James said hotly. “You said that. Not I.”
“He offered to help me interpret the book so that—”
“I offered to burn the book, if you recall. I told you it was utter nonsense.” He glared at her, and when that didn’t cause her to quake in her shoes, he glared at Blake and Caroline. That also seemed to have no effect, so he turned back to Elizabeth and yelled, “For the love of God, woman, there’s only one rule in that bloody book worth following.”
“And that is?” Elizabeth asked disdainfully.
“That you marry your damned marquis!”
She was silent for a long moment, her blue eyes holding his, and then, in a movement that sliced his gut in two, she turned away.
“He said he would help me learn how to catch a husband,” she said to the Ravenscrofts. “But he never told me who he was. He never told me he was a bloody marquis.”
No one made a response, so Elizabeth just let out a bitter breath and said, “And now you know the entire tale. How he poked fun at me and my unfortunate circumstances.”
James crossed the room in a heartbeat. “I never laughed at you, Elizabeth,” he said, his eyes intent upon her face. “You must believe that. I never intended to hurt you.”
“Well, you did,” she said.
“Then marry me. Let me spend a lifetime making it up to you.”
A fat tear squeezed out of the corner of her eye. “You don’t want to marry me.”
“I have asked you repeatedly,” he said with an impatient exhale. “What more proof do you need?”
“Am I not allowed to have my pride? Or is that an emotion reserved for the elite?”
“Am I such a terrible person?” The question was punctuated by a vaguely bewildered exhale. “So I didn’t tell you who I was. I’m sorry. Excuse me for enjoying—no, reveling—in the fact that you fell in love with me, not my title, not my money, not my anything. Just me.”
A choking sound emerged from her throat. “It was a test?”
“No!” he practically yelled. “Of course it wasn’t a test. I told you, I had very important reasons for concealing my identity. But…but…” He fought for words, having no idea how to express what was in his heart. “But it still felt good. You have no idea, Elizabeth. No idea at all.”
“No,” she said quietly, “I don’t.”
“Don’t punish me, Elizabeth.”
His voice was thick with emotion, and Elizabeth felt that warm baritone all the way down to her soul. She had to get out of here, had to escape before he spun any more lies around her heart.
Yanking her hands away from his, she hurried toward the door. “I have to go,” she said, panic rising in her voice. “I can’t be with you right now.”
“Where are you going?” James asked, slowly following her.
“Home.”
His arm came out to prevent her from leaving. “You are not walking home by yourself. It is dark, and the district is full of drunken revelers.”
“But—”
“I don’t care if you hate me,” he said in a voice that brooked no protest. “I will not permit you to leave this room by yourself.”
She looked entreatingly at Blake. “Then you can do it. Will you see me home? Please?”
Blake stood, and his eyes met with James’s for a brief moment before nodding. “I would be honored.”
“Take care of her,” James said gruffly.
Blake nodded again. “You know I will.” He took Elizabeth’s arm and escorted her out of the room.
James watched them go, then leaned against the wall, his body shaking with all the emotion he’d been trying to keep in check all evening. The fury, the pain, the exasperation, even the damned frustration—after all, he had not found his own pleasure in the woods with Elizabeth. They all rocked within him, eating him up, making it difficult to breathe.
He heard a little clucking sound and looked up. Blast, he’d completely forgotten that Caroline was still in the room.
“Oh, James,” she sighed. “How could you?”
“Save it, Caroline,” he snapped. “Just save it.”
And then he stormed off, crashing heedlessly through the crowds in the hall. There was a bottle of whiskey in his cottage that promised to be the evening’s best companion.
Chapter 19
It didn’t take long for Elizabeth to decide that Blake Ravenscroft—despite his being bosom bows with James—was a very wise man. He didn’t, as he drove her home, attempt to make conversation, or ask prying questions, or do anything other than offer her a comforting pat on the arm and say, “If you need someone, I’m certain Caroline would be happy to talk with you.”
It took a smart man indeed to know when to keep his mouth shut.
The drive home was conducted in silence, save for Elizabeth’s occasional directions to her home.
As they drove up to the Hotchkiss cottage, however, Elizabeth was surprised to see the small structure ablaze with light. “Heavens,” she murmured. “They must have lit every candle in the house.”
And then, of course, habit kicked in, and she began to mentally tally the cost of those tapers and pray that they hadn’t used any of the expensive beeswax candles she normally reserved for company.
Blake took his eyes off the road to look at her. “Is something wrong?”
The curricle drew to a halt, and Elizabeth jumped down without waiting for assistance from Blake. There was no reason why the Hotchkiss cottage should be so abuzz with activity, no reason whatsoever. There was enough noise spilling from the house to wake the dead, and while it sounded like a raucous, happy sort of noise, Elizabeth could not stem the panic rising in her chest.
She burst through the door and followed the loud squeals and laughter into the sitting room. Susan, Jane, and Lucas were holding hands and spinning in a circle, laughing and singing bawdy songs at the top of their lungs.
Elizabeth was completely dumbstruck. She’d never seen her siblings act this way. She liked to think that she’d managed to shoulder most of their worries for the past five years, and that they’d had a lovely and reasonably carefree childhood, but she’d never seen them so completely drunk with happiness.
She felt Blake standing at her side, and when he whispered, “Do you know what happened?” she couldn’t even formulate a reply.
After about five seconds, Susan caught sight of her sister standing in the doorway and gaping at them, and she yanked the dancing circle to a halt, causing Jane and Lucas to crash into each other in a laughing tangle of skinny arms and blond hair.
“Elizabeth!” Susan exclaimed. “You’re home.”
Elizabeth nodded slowly. “What is going on? I didn’t expect you to be still awake.”
“Oh, Elizabeth!” Jane cried out. “The most brilliant thing has happened. You’ll never believe!”
“Wonderful,” Elizabeth replied, her emotions still too battered to put much feeling into the word. But she tried. She didn’t know what had happened to bring such bliss to her siblings, but she owed it to them to wipe some of the pain from her eyes and at least attempt to look excited.
Susan rushed over, holding a piece of paper she’d retrieved from a writing table. “Look what arrived while you were out. A messenger brought it.”
“A liveried messenger,” Jane added. “He was terribly handsome.”
“He was a servant,” Lucas told her.
“That doesn’t mean he wasn’t handsome,” she retorted.
Elizabeth felt herself smile. Listening to Lucas and Jane bicker was so wonderfully normal. Not like the rest of this god-awful evening. She took the paper from Susan and looked down.
And then her hands began to shake.
“Isn’t it brilliant?” Susan asked, her blue eyes lighting with wonder. “Who would have thought?”
Elizabeth said nothing, trying to fight the rising tide of nausea in her stomach.
“Who do you think it could be?” Jane asked. “It must be someone so very lovely. The kindest, loveliest person in all the world.”
“May I?” Blake murmured.
Silently, she handed him the paper. When she looked up, Susan, Jane, and Lucas were staring at her with bewildered expressions.
“Aren’t you happy?” Jane whispered.
Blake gave her back the paper and she looked down again, as if another reading would somehow change the offending message.
Sir Lucas Hotchkiss,
Miss Hotchkiss,
Miss Susan Hotchkiss,
Miss Jane Hotchkiss,
It gives me great pleasure to inform you that your family is the recipient of this charitable anonymous bank draft, in the amount of £5000.
Further arrangements have been made by your benefactor for Sir Lucas to attend Eton. He should report to the school at the beginning of the next term.
Sincerely,
Geo. Shillingworth
Shillingworth and Son, Solicitors
It was from James. It had to be. She turned to Blake, unable to keep the hardness from her eyes.
“He only meant to help you,” Blake said softly.
“It’s insulting,” she just barely managed to say. “How can I accept this? How could I possibly—”
He placed his hand on her arm. “You’re overwrought. Perhaps if you consider this in the morning—”
“Of course I’m overwrought! I—” Elizabeth caught sight of her siblings’ stricken faces and covered her mouth with her hand, horrified by her outburst.
Three pairs of blue eyes were darting between her face and that of Mr. Ravenscroft, whom they didn’t even know, and—
Mr. Ravenscroft. She should introduce him to the children. They had to be upset enough over her reaction, and at the very least they should know who was standing in their parlor.
“Susan, Jane, Lucas,” she said, trying to keep her voice even, “this is Mr. Ravenscroft. He is a friend of—” She swallowed. She’d almost said “Mr. Siddons,” but that wasn’t even his real name, was it? “He is a friend of Lady Danbury’s,” she finished. “And he was kind enough to see me home.”
Her siblings mumbled their greetings, and Elizabeth turned to Blake and said, “Mr. Ravenscroft, these are—” She broke off, eyes narrowing. “I say, it is Mr. Ravenscroft, isn’t it? You’re not hiding some sort of title as well, are you?”
Blake shook his head, a hint of a smile touching the corners of his lips. “A mere mister, I’m afraid, although if full disclosure is necessary, my father is a viscount.”
Elizabeth wanted to smile, knowing his comments were meant to amuse, but she just couldn’t summon one up. Instead, she turned to her siblings, and with a heavy heart, said, “We can’t accept this.”
“But—”
“We can’t.” Elizabeth didn’t even know which of her siblings had voiced the objection, she jumped in so fast over the protest. “It is too much. We can’t accept that kind of charity.”
Jane apparently disagreed. “But don’t you think whomever gave us the money wanted us to have it?”
Elizabeth swallowed against the lump in her throat. Who knew what James had intended? Was this all part of some grand scheme to mock her? After what he’d already done, who knew how his mind worked?
“I’m sure he did,” she said carefully, “else it wouldn’t be our names at the top of the letter. But that is irrelevant. We cannot accept this sort of money from a stranger.”
“Maybe it’s not a stranger,” Susan said.
“Then that’s even worse!” Elizabeth retorted. “My God, can you imagine? Some horrid person treating us like puppets, pulling our strings, thinking he can control our destiny? It’s sick. Sick.”
There was silence, followed by the most awful sound. Lucas, fighting back tears. He looked up at Elizabeth, his eyes heartbreakingly huge. “Does that mean I won’t get to go to Eton?” he whispered.
Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat. She tried to tell Lucas that he couldn’t go, knew she had to tell him that they could not accept James’s money, but the words just wouldn’t come out.
She stood there, looking at her brother’s trembling face. He was trying so hard to keep his upper lip stiff and not show his disappointment. His little arms were rigid sticks at his sides, and his chin was jutted out, as if keeping his jaw still would somehow stem his tears.
Elizabeth looked at him and saw the price of her pride.
“I don’t know about Eton,” she said, leaning down to embrace him. “Maybe we can still make it work.”
But Lucas pulled back. “We can’t afford it. You try so hard to hide it, but I know the truth. I can’t go. I’m never going to be able to go.”
“That’s not true. Maybe this”—she motioned vaguely to the letter—“means something different.” She smiled weakly. Her words were utterly without conviction, and even an eight-year-old—especially an eight-year-old—could tell she was lying.
Lucas’s eyes fixed on hers for the most agonizing, longest moment of her life. And then he just swallowed and said, “I’m going to bed.”
Elizabeth didn’t even try to stop him. There was nothing she could say.
Jane followed without a word, her little blond braid somehow looking decidedly limp.
Elizabeth looked at Susan. “Do you hate me?”
Susan shook her head. “But I don’t understand you.”
“We can’t accept this, Susan. We’d be indebted to our benefactor for the rest of our lives.”
“But why does it matter? We don’t even know who he is!”
“I won’t be indebted to him,” Elizabeth said fiercely. “I won’t.”
Susan drew back a step, her eyes growing wide. “You know who it is,” she whispered. “You know who sent this.”
“No,” Elizabeth said, but they both knew she was lying.
“You do. And that’s why you won’t accept it.”
“Susan, I won’t discuss this further.”
Susan backed away, grasping the doorframe when she reached the hall. “I’m going to comfort Lucas,” she said. “He needs a shoulder to cry on.”
Elizabeth winced.
“A rather direct hit,” Blake murmured, once Susan was up the stairs.
Elizabeth turned. She’d completely forgotten he was there. “I beg your pardon?”
He shook his head. “It doesn’t bear repeating.”
She sank against the back of the sofa, her legs refusing to hold her up a single second longer. “It seems you’ve been privy to all my private moments this evening.”
“Not all.”
She smiled humorlessly. “I suppose you’re going to go back to the marquis and tell him everything.”
“No. I’ll tell my wife everything, but not James.”
Elizabeth looked at him with confusion. “Then what will you tell him?”
Blake shrugged as he headed for the door. “That he’s an idiot if he lets you go. But I suspect he knows that already.”
Elizabeth woke up the following morning, knowing it was going to be a hideous day. There was no one she wanted to see, absolutely no one she had any desire to speak to, and that included herself.
She didn’t want to face her siblings and their disappointed faces. She didn’t want to see the Ravenscrofts—total strangers who had witnessed her utter and complete humiliation. She refused to visit Lady Danbury; she didn’t think she could spend the day in the countess’s company without breaking down in tears and asking her how she could have participated in James’s deception.
